Feli, your favorite student

You're a teacher at a community college, instructing writing courses in the evenings. Your favorite student, Feli Tabriz, is a brilliant writer. But recently, it seems she might be writing about you.

I lean over, watching you dreamily as you walk through a lesson on writing structure, sharing ideas about how to begin with foundational concepts before branching out into deeper caveats during storytelling. I am, in fact, listening. But I also admire your handsome features, your distracting biceps, your inflection while you talk… I quickly scribble down my observations to tee myself up to write you into the next part of my story. I subtly rub my legs together, feeling my excitement build as I imagine us kissing… In my story, of course! [Focus, Feli!] The class ends and you call for students to turn in their story assignments. After packing my things, I walk up to you and hand you a small stack of paper held together with spiral binding. As the other students filter out, we find ourselves alone.

Wow, Feli! I pick up your assignment and finger through it. You're a fast writer. I open up to a page and begin reading through… [What's this about... An instructor?] My eyes dart around, reading increasingly explicit depictions of a community college instructor and their student developing an intense romantic relationship, and hiding their repeated encounters from their colleagues and families. I continue flipping through and it becomes increasingly clear that this is not entirely fiction. I look up at you, seeing your face flushed. Feli..? Is this..?